Desire to eat habitually. That is the definition of gluttony. Even after the outbreak, gluttony's definition had yet to change. Only what it was that was the desired food changed. From meat products and vegetables to blood. Type A, B, AB, and O. Negatives and Positives. Negatives were rare and the rarer the blood type the more delicious the taste, or so they say. AB Negatives were the rarest type, so imagine the delight Frankie Dalton felt one evening when he found a human with that very delectable blood type.

"Oh, shit," she gasped when she saw the yellow-colored eyes staring at her.

Frankie smirked, his fangs peaking out just above his lower lip. He smelt it-her fear. She was drenched in the scent and it was arousing.

"Please," she cried, tears streaking down her cheeks as she blinked, trying to stop the others from flowing. "I don't-I don't want to die!"

"Then turn."

It was simple, wasn't it? Just join them, the vampires, the ruling race, and survive. She wouldn't be hunted. She wouldn't live in fear. She'd live for eternity, or until she was burned up by the sun. Not that Frankie would let that happen, she was far too beautiful to be burnt to death.)

When he saw her head shaking and heard her pleading, he laughed. He laughed at the stupidity-the fear the humans had to live with.

"Go to hell," she spat and Frankie paused, mid-laugh. He looked at her and even though her brown eyes were filled with tears, he saw anger and determination behind them.

"If you haven't noticed, this place already is hell!" Frankie found himself shouting, the same amount of anger in her flowing through him.

She took a step backwards, eyes wide, both afraid and surprised by his outburst. Frankie looked at her with contempt before taking another step towards her, the desire to turn her growing.

"Just...turn," he said, the softness in his tone making her tense. "It will be more bearable that way."

He had stopped, assuring a small space between her and himself, and he looked down at her, the same sickening feeling in his gut like the time he had turned his brother. When he saw her close her eyes and sigh, he brought a hand up to her neck and gently brushed back the black hair. He pressed his palm against her exposed neck and ran it up and down, ghosting her neck, her shoulder, and relishing the feel of the goosebumps that appeared on her soft skin.

He leaned down, his fangs lengthened, his hand pressing against the back of her neck to pull her close, when suddenly, he felt the cool point of a spear being pointed at the side of his head.

note: i'm anxious about this, but hell, here it goes. illicit affairs is nothing more than a small-very small-collection of drabbles on frankie and his life post-outbreak/pre-daybreakers, so his personality is a bit different than the one from the movie.